Returned from Death

God shitted on me last night in the form of a little tab on my tongue. I saw thickened wrinkles in between my eyes like I have died 75 times on a toilet bowl, trying after three days of constipation while staring into colorful, moving walls in uncontrollable laughter and twitches from the thunder thighs.

“God is having a hysteric laugh on me and the rest of humanity.” There was a wave of pain flowing through, including that of the special one in between laughs. From shame to madness to joy and understanding, this current made me feel like the chosen one, having to defend a sacred land engraved on a scripture that is never too irrelevant at the detriment of the lives of their neighbors or slaves now in the present moment, as I am taking this shit.

I am nothing but a god’s fart joke, yet I am nothing but a lump of love. It is a radical feeling of all-encompassing one that needs no inquiry or positioning. The hierarchy is dissolved, so is the mind. The truth seems to just be growing and going, moving past the bygone.

In the meantime, a long history of ancestry decided to flash right in front of my eyes, from fungus to us. It was a feathery lightness I’d never felt before. My significance pales and disappears for a moment in the face of god. Everything we strive for is to serve as emulation or tribute to the source, namely, the origin of all. Every little encounter is an act of it. Every little step is the progression of it, an energy that continues to find forms to inhabit and manifest. I can lose my body and go back to it, time and time again. Returning from death, it is destruction so deep that testifies life, that is love justified.